You'se Not My Mother
by Ostrich on a Rampage
Summary: When Crutchie decides to leave the newsies, Jack must find a way to bring his best friend back home. There's only one problem with Jack's plan... What if Crutchie doesn't want to come home?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone. I've decided to try my hand at a Newsies fic. Reviews are always welcome and helpful; let me know if I've got the characters down or how to improve! Also, this is probably going to be roughly six chapters, so just a heads up that there is more to come. Anyway, read on, my ostriches.**

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Jack Kelly was up in his penthouse, when he heard the soft scrabbling of someone making their way onto the roof to join him. Probably not Crutchie, Jack thought, ignoring the slight bitterness that crept into the pit of his stomach. The strike had ended almost two weeks ago and Crutchie still wasn't completely alright. He didn't show it, of course, but he would sit on his bed with a soft smile frozen in place and his eyes glazed over in memory. Jack had tried to talk to him about the Refuge—for that had to be the problem—but, Crutchie had gently told Jack he was okay. And then when Jack pressed a bit more for answers, Crutchie had told him—not so gently, this time—that he didn't need Jack's help.

That had been two days ago and Jack's pride was still smarting. If Crutchie didn't need him, he didn't need Crutchie. So, the two friends had been dancing around each other, the cold shoulder creating a rift, not only between the two of them, but affecting the other newsies also. A soft aura of awkwardness had settled among the boys and no one was really talking to either Jack or Crutchie. Which was just fine with Jack. He wanted to finish this drawing anyway.

"Hey, Jack?"

Jack recognized the soft voice of Les Jacobs, Davey's younger brother. He sounded anxious. Most likely because he knew that Jack wasn't currently in the best of moods.

"Yeah, Les?"

"There's, uh, there's a lady 'ere."

Jack glanced at the young boy. "So?"

"She wants to take Crutchie with 'er," Les muttered, lowering his eyes.

"What ya talking about?"

Les shrugged. "She says she'll take care of him and…" he hesitated, but suddenly spoke up, his voice passionate, "I don't wanna lose Crutchie. You'se gotta tell 'er Crutchie can't go. We'se his family and he's gonna stay with us. Not 'er."

Jack stared at the younger boy. Some lady had come for Crutchie? Why? He was about to question Les further, when Davey stuck his head up to the penthouse. "There you are, Les," he muttered, before focusing on Jack. "You'se gotta get down 'ere. I don't know what to tell this lady. Or Crutchie, for that matter."

When Jack continued to sit there, still trying to comprehend what the Jacobs brothers were talking about, Davey motioned even harder for the older boy to get down there. "Okay, okay, I'm coming. What do you mean she wants Crutchie?" Jack asked, as he followed Davey and Les down to where the other boys were gathered around a tall, proper lady.

She was tall, with long dark brown hair pulled into a perfect bun at the nape of her neck. Not a single strand of hair was loose or out of place. She wore a tight, dark green dress that extended up her neck to the base of her chin, the collar buttoned so tightly that Jack wondered how she was able to breathe. She was standing apart from the newsies, careful not to touch any of the grimy children. When she caught sight of Jack, she started forward, towards him, the boys breaking out of her way, parting like the Red Sea. "Are you Mr. Kelly?" she queried.

"I am," Jack responded, uncertain how to react around this lady, for that is what she clearly was. He had never seen her before in his life and he still was not quite sure what she was here for.

Her nose turned up, slightly, as she announced her reason for showing up. "I am here for Christopher Morris."

"'is name is Crutchie!" Specs informed her, his arms crossed across his chest.

She turned piercing black eyes on the boy, frowning at him. "Christopher Morris is his Christian name and that is what he shall be known by."

"Like that religion ever did any good for 'im," Race muttered.

"Anyway," the woman continued, ignoring the newsies and turning her attention back to Jack. "Where is young Christopher?"

"Whatcha want him for?" Jack asked.

The woman fixed Jack with a cold stare. "I want to give him a good life, a better life than he could ever dream of getting here."

"Well, maybe he don't want to leave here," Specs cut in, nodding confidently.

"Let me ask him, then," the woman proposed. "Let Christopher make his own decision."

"We don't need to ask him 'cuz we already know his answer," Jack said. Crutchie wouldn't want to leave them; they was family and you don't just up and leave family. He and Crutchie had been friends for nearly as long as Jack could remember.

It had been a crisp, cold winter morning and Jack had been hawking headlines, hoping to get all his papes sold, when he noticed a small boy, huddled against the wall. The kid was studying his grimy hands with a curious ferocity, scrubbing at the dirt. "Oi, kid!" Jack had shouted, approaching the boy. He had startled easily, hitting his head against the wall as he looked up in surprise. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."

"Maybe you shouldn't go about shouting at people, then," the kid had muttered, rubbing the back of his head.

"Watcha doing out here?" Jack asked. It was cold and Jack knew that snow was likely to fall soon. At least, it felt like it. Most kids would be seeking refuge from the winter in warm homes, near roaring fires. But, this one just sat next to the wall. Jack curiously wondered if the kid didn't have a home.

The kid shrugged, careful not to make eye contact with Jack. "Dunno. Just sitting."

"What for?"

"I guess my leg's just tired."

Jack sat down next to the kid, quickly noticing the crutch leaning up against the wall. "You got a gimp leg?"

The kid glanced up at Jack indignantly. "Yeah, what's it to you?"

The fire in his voice caused Jack to grin. "You know, that gimp leg of yours would really sell the papes. Crips sell faster than the regular boys."

"What're you talking about?"

"I'm a newsie," Jack explained. He waved his remaining papes in the crip's face. "I sell papes. You could, too, if you don't have anything better to do. We get paid and a warm place to sleep. There's always a bit of food, so you don't starve. What do you say?"

The kid shrugged. "I don't need your charity. I'm just fine by myself."

"Hey, I'm not being charitable or nothing. You'd be useful. But, if you really just want to sit in this alley 'til you freeze to death, be my guest. Good luck, Crutch."

Jack pulled himself off the ground and started back out of the hallway. "Wait!" the thin voice cried out to him. "Would my leg actually be… helpful?"

"Of course! All them other boys have to fake a cripple, but you've got it down all natural-like. You'd sell so many papes that you'd be able to buy whatever you like: apples, oranges, anything."

The kid nodded to himself, before attempting to stand up. Jack quickly helped pull the kid to his feet, making sure he had his crutch securely stuck under his armpit. "I'm Jack, by the way. What's your name, kid?" Ducking his head, the kid remained silent for a second, prompting Jack to continue. "You can change your name if you don't like it. Don't think anyone back at the lodge goes by 'is real name. Just make something up and that's how I'll introduce you. Ya get to start over, fresh and new."

Softly, the kid muttered, "I don't know what to be named."

"How about Crutch?" Jack proposed. "You've got one; it'd be easy to remember."

The kid thought for a second, mouthing the new name over and over. "How about Crutchie?" he suggested.

Jack grinned. "Crutchie it is, then."

After that fateful winter morning, the two had become fast friends, brothers, really. Jack knew he could always rely on Crutchie to be there for him, to listen when he just needed to get something off of his chest. And Jack was always there for Crutchie. They were brothers and brothers didn't just up and leave with mysterious women, so Jack knew what Crutchie's answer had to be. "We don't need to ask Crutchie anything," Jack repeated fervently.

"Don't need to ask me what?" a voice asked. Jack quickly turned, noting that Crutch was making his way toward the group of newsies, hobbling quite fast.

"Look, it's nothing," Jack muttered. It really wasn't. Some lady thought Crutchie needed adoptin' or a family, without realizing that he had one right here.

"It ain't nothing if it needs my answer," Crutchie said, glancing at the lady. "Who's she?"

The lady smiled down at Crutchie. "My name is Mrs. Abigail Maddox. I have come to adopt you, young Christopher," she announced graciously.

"Adopt me?" Crutchie asked, hobbling past Jack towards Mrs. Hendricks "What d'ya mean?"

"My husband, John, and I have been unable to have kids. When we saw your story in the newspaper, we knew that we could provide you with the life that you deserved. You'll never be hungry or stuck selling newspapers in the freezing snow ever again. Plus, John is a doctor and he could provide you the help your leg needs."

As Mrs. Hendricks talked, Crutchie glanced down at his leg. It had been hurting him more than usual, ever since the Refuge, and it would be nice to have plenty of warm, home-cooked meals, no longer depending on the nuns' kindness. At the same time, however, the newsies were his best friends, his _brothers_. He couldn't just up and leave them, right?

"He's not going," Jack announced again, gripping Crutchie's shoulder.

"Let Christopher make his own decision," Mrs. Hendricks suggested.

Jack scoffed slightly. "I don't need to because I know what he's going to say: no."

Crutchie stood there for a second, immobilized in thought. He was starting to get sick of Jack never listening to him, always speaking up for him. Sure, Jack was his brother, but lately that relationship had felt more strained. Ever since the strike… Crutchie almost wished he could go back to before the strike ever happened, when he and Jack were brothers and they'd dream of Santa Fe. But, all of that was gone now. Davey had joined the newsies and now he was Jack's best friend. When Crutchie had been dragged off to the Refuge, Davey had filled his spot as best friend and Crutchie didn't know how to get his title back. Suddenly, he was sick of never being listened to or taken seriously. Suddenly, Crutchie just wanted out. And fate had presented him a perfect opportunity.

"Just shup up, Jack," Crutchie muttered.

Jack turned to him, probably shocked that the younger boy would say such a thing to him, but Crutchie didn't care. He just wanted out and this opportunity wasn't going to stick around forever. "What—what are you saying, Crutchie?"

"I'm saying that maybe I do want to be adopted. Maybe I don't wanna be slumming around with you'se fellas no more," Crutchie said angrily.

"Who says we'se slumming?" Race shouted back, even angrier.

Jack immediately stepped in, before a fight ensued. "I don't know, Crutchie. I just don't feel like this is a good idea. It doesn't seem… right. It just doesn't seem right to me."

Crutchie glared at Jack. "It doesn't seem right to you? What, 'cuz I finally found a family and am able to pull myself out of this hellhole?" The other newsies gasped at Crutchie's insult, glancing between each other. While everyone had known that Crutchie and Jack were avoiding each other, they hadn't expected a fight like this to come out of the disagreement. "Maybe I do want to be adopted."

"If that's the case," Abigail Maddox quickly jumped in. "You can sign right here. This paper guarantees that you are legally our child and under our protection." She smiled down at Crutchie. "It's as simple as that. One signature and you gain a loving family."

Jack gaped at his oldest friend. Would Crutchie really sign that paper? Would he really just up and leave the other newsies, his real family? "Crutchie," he began, stumbling over words. "Crutchie, I don't think—"

Crutchie cut Jack off, reaching forward to sign the paper Abigail Maddox held. "I don't care what you think. You'se not my mother."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello, all! I'm back with another chapter. To my ninja reviewers, thank you! And, yes, I do take suggestions. I'll get on that story as soon as this one is finished. Anyway, read on, my ostriches.**

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"I'm really glad you decided to join our little family," Mrs. Abigail Maddox said sweetly, smiling down at Crutchie. After yelling at Jack, the whole group of newsies had quietened, watching Crutchie follow his adopted mother out of the lodging house. Crutchie had resisted the urge to look back, allowing Abigail Maddox to help him into the carriage, but now as he sat there, nodding at her words, Crutchie wished he had seen what Jack's face had looked like when he left. Was he hurt? Was he worried? Or, worse, was he triumphant, glad to finally get Crutchie out of his hair? Crutchie glanced back up at the nice lady when he noticed she was still talking. "—and you'll have your own room, completely furnished with this giant bed John found and—"

"Mrs. Maddox?" Crutchie interrupted timidly.

"You can call me mother," Mrs. Maddox quickly reassured the boy.

Crutchie frowned slightly. "Um, okay, mother…" The word tasted sour in his mouth, somehow inappropriate and wrong. Crutchie had gone so long without calling anyone 'mother' that trying to get back into that habit seemed strange. "Will I be able to visit the other newsies?"

"Why would you want to associate with those street urchins?" Mrs. Maddox asked. "I'm sure you'll be able to make all sort of good friends who actually have class just as soon as we get your leg better and you enrolled in school."

"But… they'se my friends already. I don't much need new friends."

Mrs. Maddox rolled her eyes. "Maybe not, but you do need a better education. Don't worry. We'll have you fixed up, all prim and proper, in no time," she reassured Crutchie. He tried to avoid frowning at her. He didn't really think he needed "fixing up." All the other newsies had accepted him as he was. Except… Jack _had_ basically replaced him with Davey. Crutchie held no illusions that he was better than Davey; the other boy was smarter, quicker, funnier, a much better friend for Jack. Maybe if Mrs. Maddox—his mother…—helped "fix" him, Jack would want to be friends with him again.

"Okay," Crutchie said in agreement. He was about to ask what sort of school he would be going to, when the carriage wheeled to a stop outside of a large and spacious mansion. "That's where ya live?" Crutchie breathed.

"That's where you'll live also. Welcome home, Christopher."

Crutchie's head spun as he made his way to the front door. Rose bushes bordered the walkway, filling the air with the sweet scent of flowers. He wanted to stop and smell each rose individually, but Mrs. Maddox guided him along, past the roses trembling in the light breeze.

If Crutchie had thought the outside of the house was exquisite, he was in for a shock when Mrs. Maddox opened the grand, white door. A large winding staircase extended from the entryway, up to a beautiful balcony on the floor above. White tile gleamed, occasionally draped with an expensive oriental rug, shipped all the way from China. Potted plants added a slight décor to the corners of the room. Regal paintings of long-dead ancestors lined on of the walls. The opposite wall held paintings of fields and flowers, giving the front room a sense of homeliness. "Gosh," Crutchie breathed, stepping inside the room.

"Do you want to see your room?" Mrs. Maddox asked.

With wide eyes, Crutchie turned to Mrs. Maddox. "My own room?"

She laughed, her eyes crinkling. "Of course, Christopher. We put it on the first floor so you wouldn't have to worry about the stairs."

"Oh, I can make it up the stairs," Crutchie informed her. "I go up to Jack's rooftop all the time." He paused, suddenly. "Or, at least I used to." He hadn't really been up there since the strike, not feeling completely comfortable around his oldest friend. And Jack hadn't seemed to want him up there either, only half-nodding the couple of times Crutchie had tried to engage him in conversation.

"Yes, well, John and I don't really want you going up to our roof here. It is much too dangerous."

Crutchie rolled his eyes. "Yes, mother," he muttered sarcastically, then stopped. The words had slipped out as a sarcastic retort, and though they still didn't sound right, they didn't sound entirely wrong either.

Mrs. Maddox smiled down at Crutchie, laughing slightly. "It's okay to call me that, you know."

"I—I do. It just don't sound completely… right, yet."

"I'm sure it will eventually. Take the time you need, Christopher."

"Thanks," he murmured.

Mrs. Maddox clapped her hands together, before announcing. "Would you like to see you room now?" Crutchie nodded and followed her to a long hallway lined with white-washed doors complete with golden knobs. He instantly knew that he wouldn't be able to distinguish the different rooms from one another. "It's this one," Mrs. Maddox said, pulling open the second door on the left. Crutchie peered in the room, surprised to see it painted a light blue, with a giant painting of a ship on the side of the room. There was a shelf full of books beside a large bed. An easel was set up, so that the painter could look out the large window on the left side of the room. "What do you think?" Mrs. Maddox asked.

"Oh, it's definitely something," Crutchie whispered, the awe tinging his voice. He had never had much anything of his own, other than his crutch, but this entire room was to be his. "Wait 'til Jack and the boys see this!" Crutchie grinned as he envisioned Davey going up to the bookshelf and losing himself in the words. The younger boys would certainly start a pillow fight with all of the pillows that filled the bed. Jack would immediately sit at the easel and paint a beautiful picture of Santa Fe.

Frowning slightly, Mrs. Maddox gently turned Crutchie so that he could look in her eyes. "I don't think you should be spending time with those news boys. They aren't of the same caliber as you. Now that you've been adopted, you're above them, in station. There are plenty of other boys in this neighborhood who'd love to be friends with you instead."

"O…kay," Crutchie trailed off.

Noticing his discomfort, Mrs. Maddox took his hand and asked, "Would you like some dinner? I'm sure Betsy, the cook, has whipped something nice for you."

Crutchie grinned. He had never been one to turn down free food. Besides, whatever Mrs. Maddox's cook had made would, no doubt, be delicious. Crutchie was actually quite anxious to taste the "rich people food" that he and the other newsies had mocked and faked during their own meager Christmas dinners. Specs would lift his cup of water and proceed to butcher some French word, which he'd then try to convince the younger boys was a fancy type of wine. Jack would pass oranges around. As delicately as possible, each boy would peel the fruit, relishing the scent of citrus and eat each wedge with as much care and precision as a fancy restauranteur.

The dining room, Crutchie quickly decided, was his favorite room in the house. A large, oak table stood in the center of the room, beautifully carved chairs surrounding it like wooden sentinels. The faint scent of food emanated from the double doors that led to the kitchen, making Crutchie's stomach rumble with anticipation. Mrs. Maddox smiled when she heard the sound. "Hungry, much?"

"Starved."

Before Crutchie knew it, they were seated at the table, waiting eagerly while Betsy brought out steaming dishes. John Maddox had joined the pair and had introduced himself to Crutchie with a firm hand shake. He was a tall, imposing figure, with a dark moustache that bristled at any slight annoyance. Crutchie immediately noticed that the man didn't smile at him, merely glanced in Crutchie's eyes once, before focusing the rest of his attention on the crippled leg. But, these observations were banished from thought as Betsy lifted the lids of the dishes, revealing a roasted duck and sides of mashed potatoes and heavily seasoned green beans. "Wow," Crutchie whispered, as Betsy served him a decent helping of food.

Mrs. Maddox grinned at his amazement. "Did you ever have food like this with your news boys?"

"Never," Crutchie said around a cheek bulged with green beans. The rest of the meal was lost to the ecstasy of well-cooked food, and plenty of it. Crutchie had never consumed such beautiful food; both visual and aromatic.

The night ended with Dr. and Mrs. Maddox standing beside Crutchie's bed, carefully placing the crutch on the side of the bed in order to be close to the boy when he got up in the morning. Crutchie had been carefully tucked into a warm quilt, the pillows piled around his head, in more comfort than he had ever previously experienced. "Thanks, mother. Father." The words slipped out comfortably as Crutchie relinquished himself to sleep.

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The next morning, Crutchie was roused shortly after dawn by Dr. Maddox's firm shake. The kind doctor smiled at him, helping him reach his crutch and make his way down the hallway. As the passed the dining room, Crutchie asked, "Are we not 'aving breakfast?" He had been looking forward to a repeat of the night before.

Dr. Maddox shook his head. "I don't want my patients to eat anything before I work on them," he explained.

"I'm your patient?" Crutchie asked.

"Well, yes. Didn't Abigail explain that I would be fixing your crippled leg? I've been studying the effects of polio on children and I'm almost certain that I have found a way to reverse the crippling that polio can create. I plan to test these theories on you." When Crutchie still looked unsure, Dr. Maddox quickly reassured him, "It's how I plan to get rid of your cripple, Christopher. This is a good thing."

Crutchie still wasn't sure how good an idea this all was, but Dr. Maddox was a doctor and he seemed pretty confident that it would work out well. Plus, after all that nice food and room, Crutchie felt as if he owed the doctor at least a couple of tests, or whatever he had been talking about. "Okay, but afterwards, can I 'ave breakfast?"

Dr. Maddox laughed. "Of course, Christopher." He then proceeded to lead Crutchie to the well-lit basement. He assisted Crutchie down the stairs, even though Crutchie tried to explain that he was just fine with stairs. The basement, Crutchie immediately noticed, had a large table in the center of the room. There was a smaller table beside it filled with shiny silver instruments that Crutchie had never seen in his life. A series of boxes were also pressed up against the left wall, creating foreboding shadows that stretched to Crutchie's feet.

"This is where you work. It's mighty cool," Crutchie admitted, hobbling forward to examine the instruments on the smaller table.

"I'm going to need you to lay down on this big table," Dr. Maddox instructed. Once Crutchie had been situated, Dr. Maddox helped him roll up his pants, so that he could access the crippled leg. Dr. Maddox stared at the twisted limb, making Crutchie more self-conscious of his injury. Gently, Dr. Maddox pressed different parts of the leg, noting the elasticity of the skin and the amount of pain each press would give Crutchie. "Sorry, Christopher, but it must be done. Does it hurt when I press here?"

The examination continued for another minute and Crutchie was immensely relieved when Dr. Maddox finally removed his cold hands. Dr. Maddox quickly made a couple notes in his notebook, before stepping away from the table to grab a bunch of wires that had strange white stickers on the edge. He explained what it was to Crutchie. "These will send electric spasms through your leg, hopefully shocking it back into health, in layman's terms. The electricity should jumpstart the nerves in your leg into normalcy."

Crutchie wasn't entirely sure what Dr. Maddox was talking about, but the man looked confident and Crutchie trusted him. However, once Dr. Maddox had affixed six different white stickers to different parts of his crippled leg and started the bursts of electricity, Crutchie decided that his trust was overrated. The limb began spasming and Crutchie was suddenly afraid that he'd never be able to control his leg ever again. "Stop! Stop!" he screamed, panting in between cries. Dr. Maddox ignored his pleas, making notes on his notebook. The pain was steadily increasing and Crutchie didn't think he could take it any longer. This was worse than the Refuge, where he could at least block some of the blows raining down on him. Here, he could only lay there and scream, his voice growing hoarse.

Eventually, Dr. Maddox turned off the electricity, removing the offending wires. "How does your leg feel?"

"Awful," Crutchie gasped. "I'm done. Don't want none of your tests no more."

"Let's see if you can walk now," Dr. Maddox suggested, helping Crutchie off the table. However, upon hitting the floor, Crutchie discovered that his leg could no longer hold his weight, pain still running up and down the calf. "Hmmm…" Dr. Maddox muttered, before putting Crutchie back on the table. "That didn't work. Maybe if I try…" He immediately left the table, rummaging through a box across the room.

"Please, no," Crutchie begged. "I like my limp. Don't need it to be fixed."

"You may not care," Dr. Maddox said, "But, if I'm able to come up with a cure for polio, I'll be rich. I'll be famous!" He returned with a strange looking band with wires protruding from it. He held it above Crutchie's eyes, quickly explaining what it was. "This will go around your head and it will send short bursts of electricity through your brain. What I'm hoping will happen is that it will correct the pain imbalance in your brain. It should help your leg."

"I don't want to," Crutchie whispered. He definitely didn't want any electricity near his brain. That just sounded dangerous. And deadly.

Dr. Maddox affixed the band to Crutchie's head, ignoring his protests. "It will be quick," he explained. Before Crutchie could say anything else, Dr, Maddox turned on the electricity. Crutchie could not prevent the scream that tore from his mouth. It felt as if someone was boiling his brain away. He couldn't think in terms beyond "pain" and "help."

Then, almost as quickly as it begun, it stopped. "I'll be back," Dr. Maddox said. "Someone is at the door. Stay here."

After the evil doctor had left, Crutchie let the sobs flow. He buried his head into his arm and wished he was back at the newsies lodge house. He wished Jack was there.

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 **Did you see that coming? Crutchie sure didn't. Jack will be in the next chapter, so all my Jack fans, he's coming. Reviews are always welcome and helpful. They make me want to finish this story sooner. Thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey, I'm back! I'd just like to thank my reviewers. You'se guys are the best. And I can't tell you how much I nearly died when Thepopcornpup reviewed. You're practically a god of Newsies fanfics, so, yeah, there was a struggle to keep from screaming in my history class. My professor gave me a strange look... Anyway, here's the next chapter. Hope you enjoy it! Also, don't forget to review. It literally makes my day.**

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Crutchie heard the ominous sound of Dr. Maddox making his way down the stairs, the footsteps echoing across the walls. Maybe if he just lay there, motionless, Dr. Maddox would forget he was there. Or, even just give up and throw him out on the streets where Crutchie could somehow make his way back to the newsies lodging house. Jack would have to take him back, right? He wouldn't think Crutchie had betrayed them. It was just one mistake and Crutchie really just wanted to go back home; that's what the newsies were, his home, his family.

"Get up," Dr. Maddox commanded, his voice tinged with a gruff annoyance and his moustache bristling.

"I can't walk," Crutchie whimpered. His crippled leg had finally stopped spasming, but it still felt as if were on fire.

"You're going to need to figure out a way to do so, boy. One of those street urchins is here to see you."

Street urchin? Crutchie suddenly hoped against all hope that it would be Jack. The other newsies were his family, too, but he and Jack were so much closer. Besides, Jack had been the one who had made sure he got out of the Refuge. He'd certainly be able to get him out of this hellhole, just as soon as he told Jack all the horrors that was going on behind these immaculate mansion walls.

Dr. Maddox interrupted Crutchie's thoughts with stern words. "And that news boy better not know you're hurt. I can easily take him down here and run some tests on him, too. It isn't the most ethical, but I can give the boy polio and try to cure it afterwards. I need to find this cure and that requires more test subjects." Ignoring the look of horror on Crutchie's face, Dr. Maddox pulled the boy out of bed, giving him his crutch.

Crutchie was forced to lean completely on the rod of wood, unable to put any weight on his right leg. He struggled forward, barely managing to keep from pitching forward and falling face-first onto the floor. Before Dr. Maddox could say anything, Crutchie quickly explained, "I'm sorry, sir. My leg… It's hard."

"Well, you better make it look damn easy," he muttered, assisting the cripple up the stairs. "If that news boy catches a whiff of your pain…" He didn't need to continue the threat; Crutchie understood it all too well.

Once he had left the basement, Dr. Maddox led Crutchie into a sitting room, where Jack was standing awkwardly, hat in hand, staring in interest at a painting of two young boys playing on an old wooden swing. "Here he is!" Dr. Maddox announced, his voice booming across the room. "Busy reading in his room, like I told you." After glancing meaningfully at Crutchie, Dr. Maddox left the room with a, "Well, I'll leave you two to it."

After the door clicked shut behind the doctor, Crutchie turned to face Jack, suddenly afraid of what might come out of his friend's mouth. He honestly had no idea why Jack felt the need to visit him. Instead of looking Jack in the eye, Crutchie settled for staring at the floor.

"'Ey, Crutchie. Look at me, please," Jack began.

Caught in the act of avoidance, Crutchie was forced to glance up at his oldest friend. "Yeah? Whatcha need?" he asked sarcastically. As much as Crutchie wanted Jack to stick around, he was also very afraid that Jack would notice the way that Crutchie was using his crutch to completely support him, rather than just assist in walking and balance, like usual. He hoped that if he seemed standoffish and kept the conversation to a minimum, Jack would just go back home and stay safe.

Jack looked startled at Crutchie's tone, but pressed on. "Look, Crutchie, I—we need you back at the lodging house. Les' been missing you. Hell, we've all been missing you."

"You came to tell me that you missed me?" Crutchie asked incredulously. "Coulda just sent a note." He hobbled over to the nearest chair, knowing that his leg would probably give out at any moment. Somehow, he had to get Jack out of the mansion before Dr. Maddox thought he had let something slip. And the only way to do that was by being mean and vicious. As much as Crutchie hated having to talk like this, it was for Jack's own good. "Can't say I 'ave been missing you'se guys much. Rather, it's a relief to not have to worry 'bout papes and all that."

"It's more than just missing you," Jack said quickly, trying to ignore the sting of Crutchie's words. "I came to say that I'm sorry. I shouldn'ta said what I did yesterday. 'Bout you not needing to make a decision and all that. It was your choice. And it still is, I s'pose. If you want to stay here, that's up to you. I just—I just wanted you to know that."

Crutchie tried to look angry, tried to hide the pain that was shooting up and down his crippled leg. He knew that he wouldn't be able to stand up on his own now. "Yeah, well, good to know you've finally decided to care—"

Jack cut his friend off quickly. "You know dat's not true!"

"It sure seemed true when you left me for the Refuge."

"Crutchie, I—"

"Forget it, Jack. I'm gonna stay here. End of story. I don't want'a see you or da other boys again. I've got my own family now."

Jack stared at Crutchie for a second and Crutchie was suddenly afraid that Jack would be able to see through his act. Right as Crutchie was about to plead with Jack to just leave and get himself to safety, telling the whole truth, Jack turned away, looking back at the painting of the two boys. "Y'know… you was the closest thing I had to family, Crutchie. It was always just me and you, 'gainst the world. Just the two of us, brothers."

"Just waiting 'til that train makes Santa Fe…" Crutchie breathed.

"Then your leg'd be better and everything would be back to normal. We'd be back to normal." Jack turned away from the painting, just in time to see a blush tinging the boy's cheeks.

"Maybe I don't want my leg to be better. Maybe I like it just the way it is," Crutchie said. The comment was clearly directed at Jack, but he noticed Crutchie's eyes dart toward the door, before returning to Jack.

"I'm not saying anything against your limp, you know dat, right? You know I don't care about—"

But Jack was cut off by Dr. Maddox entering the room. "Excuse me, boy. I think your presence is giving my _son_ ," he emphasized the word, nodding at Crutchie, who had suddenly found the carpet interesting, "unneeded stress."

Jack tried to make eye contact with Crutchie, to receive some sort of permission to stay. He felt as if Crutchie was finally breaking down whatever walls had been built up between the two friends, but Crutchie remained focused on the ground. He finally gave up, looking up at the doctor. "Yes, sir," he muttered, allowing himself to be led outside the mansion and told to never return.

Crutchie glanced up hesitantly when Dr. Maddox returned from sending Jack away. "I—I didn't tell 'im nothing. 'E doesn't know nothing."

"I know," Dr. Maddox said, before suddenly asking, "Does your leg still hurt?"

"I can't stand," Crutchie admitted.

Dr. Maddox sighed. "That is probably enough for right now. Maybe Betsy has some sort of breakfast waiting for you in the kitchen."

Crutchie sighed. "I don't want breakfast. I just want to lay down."

Dr. Maddox helped Crutchie make his way to his bedroom, having to support the young boy the entire way there. "I'll have Abigail bring you dinner," he informed the young boy. "Then, later, we'll try something else." At the widening of Crutchie's eyes, Dr. Maddox added, "The sooner we fix your leg, the better you'll feel. Don't worry. No more electroshock therapy."

After the doctor had left, Crutchie squeezed his eyes shut, wishing this were all some horrible nightmare, but realizing that he would be stuck in this hell probably until the day the doctor accidentally killed him in an effort to cure polio.

* * *

Jack leaned forward against the railing of his roof, staring across the city. The sun had finally reached its zenith and was peeking out of the clouds that had hidden it all morning, but no one on the ground seemed to notice. The New Yorkers milled around the city, not bothering to notice the change in the day. Crutchie would have noticed the presence of the sun, would have grinned widely, brightly, competing with the sun to see who could shine brighter.

But, Crutchie didn't want to come back to the newsies, wanted to stay in his nice cushy rich-person house. Jack wasn't an idiot and could tell that Crutchie was purposefully trying to get his friend to leave the house. He just didn't understand why Crutchie would do that. At first, he had thought Crutchie was still mad at him for not letting him speak up earlier with the fancy lady. However, Jack had realized that everything Crutchie was saying, it was calculated. He was saying the worst things he could to get Jack to leave, regardless of whether they were true or not. The part about Santa Fe, though, that was all Crutchie. But, everything had shifted when Crutchie's adopted father entered the room.

Something struck Jack as off with Dr. Maddox, but he couldn't place the strange feeling he was getting. The man looked intimidating, yes, but it was more than that. It was the cold stare he had fixed, both, Jack and Crutchie. It was the way Crutchie never made eye contact with the man, or kept glancing at the door during the conversation.

There was also the way Crutchie was leaning on his crutch. It was almost as if it were the sole thing keeping Crutchie standing. And then the boy had sat down halfway through the conversation. Jack wasn't sure if Crutchie's leg was hurting him more than usual, or if the boy was just tired from whatever rich-people activities he probably participated in the night before.

"It just don't make no sense," Jack muttered, staring out at the city.

"What doesn't make sense?"

The words startled Jack and he quickly turned, coming face to face with Katherine, who had just made her way to the roof. Her eyebrows raised in a questioning glance and Jack turned back to the city, trying to pick out the street that led to Crutchie's new mansion. "Crutchie," he told her.

Katherine stood next to Jack, staring up at the sky. "Yeah… Davey told me about what happened when I got here."

"Dat ain't even the half of it. I went to see Crutchie earlier and 'e just pushed me away. Practically yelled at me to leave." Jack sighed. "But, it just didn't feel like 'im. Didn't seem right or nothing." Jack paused, contemplating the implication of what he was thinking, before slowly voicing the thoughts. "It… it looked like 'e was 'urt."

Katherine glanced at Jack. "You don't think that he was—"

"Dunno. Just know that it weren't right." Jack resumed his stare at the city, trying to piece everything from that earlier conversation together. "What am I s'posed to do?" he quietly asked Katherine.

"You need to talk to him."

"Dat's the problem. 'E won't talk to me." He snorted bitterly. "'specially with that father of 'is. Just stands there all menacing-like."

"Well, then you need to talk to Crutchie when his adopted family isn't around."

"And 'ow am I s'posed to do that?" Jack asked, glancing back at Katherine. The doctor probably wouldn't even let anyone from the newsies into that grand house of his. Especially not Jack. In fact, Jack was pretty certain that the doctor had only let him in initially because Jack refused to leave until he had talked to Crutchie.

"Go at night, when the parents are sleeping. Find Crutchie's room and talk to him."

"Tonight?" Jack asked, but, at the same time, he knew exactly what the answer had to be. Waiting was not an option. Not when Crutchie looked as… he hated to say it, hated to think that the doctor was hurting his best friend, but it looked like Crutchie was injured. The sooner Jack could figure out what to do, the better.

"Tonight," Katherine agreed. She leaned against Jack's shoulder, looking out at the sprawling city. "Bring him home, Jack. Make sure he's okay."

Jack nodded tersely. "I will. I won't leave without 'im."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hey, am I updating too quickly? Cuz here's another chapter. Just one more left in this baby and then I've got a fantastic idea for the next one. The only problem is this summer I got a job where I'm going to have VERY limited access to the internet, so I basically have three weeks to finish this guy and the next one (it's going to be called Making Tomorrow's Headlines). So, I guess, even if you think I'm updating too quickly, I'm still going to continue. Then over the summer I can get away from the headlines and the deadlines in between. Ha. Ha. Anyway, rant over.**

 **Thank you to Thepopcornpup and all my other lovely guest supporters! Read on, my ostriches!**

* * *

Jack Kelly stared up at the imposing mansion, wondering how in the world he would be able to sneak in and find Crutchie. He, frankly, wouldn't have been surprised if there were guards stationed around the building, faces firm against any intruders. With the utmost care, Jack pulled himself up to a second-story window that he had noticed was open. Gripping the ledge to keep from falling, Jack peered in, checking to see if any of the Maddoxes were nearby. He didn't see anyone, so he pulled himself inside, squeezing through the open space like a ferret.

As he got into the room, the soft snick of a door opening alerted Jack of someone's presence. He immediately scurried under the bed, pulling the blankets down over the sides of the bed to hide the fact that a seventeen year old boy was currently under there.

"He's only fifteen, you know," a feminine voice commented. Jack figured it was Mrs. Maddox, but couldn't confidently tell if it was her voice; she had only talked to him for a few brief moments before she had whisked Crutchie off.

"I know, but I need to do this," a second, male voice said. It was clearly Dr. Maddox. Jack still remembered the way he had coldly told Jack to leave and never return, that Crutchie didn't want him to come back ever again.

Mrs. Maddox sighed, sitting down on the bed. Jack jumped slightly as the mattress shifted above his head. "Yes. It is for the good of the community…"

"I'll be down in my laboratory, if you need me."

"Wait a while, John. He just had dinner. I don't want him getting sick or anything."

"No, I should do this now. I believe that if I am able to apply pressure to the muscles directly, I can massage them back into normalcy. The sooner I fix young Christopher's leg, the sooner he can be normal again."

There was silence for a while, before Mrs. Maddox said, "Alright, John. Do what you need to do. I'm going to work on my embroidery in the music room, if you need me."

There was the obvious sound of a passionate kiss and Jack felt as if he would puke. He really just wanted to get out from under the bed and go find Crutchie, get the boy out of there. Make sure he wasn't hurt. The way Crutchie had sat down so quickly, how he wouldn't completely make eye contact with Jack, the tight, white-knuckled grip on his crutch… Jack didn't want to think his best friend was hurt, but he couldn't deny what he had seen. And that just meant that Jack had to get Crutchie out of this mansion all the faster.

The two Maddoxes left the room and Jack waited as long as he could, until he was certain the coast was clear. Carefully, Jack crept down the hallway, constantly glancing around to make sure that he wouldn't be spotted. The utmost care Jack took with each step brought him back to the time he had escaped the Refuge and, for a moment, all Jack could hear and smell was the slight snores of the other boys and the putrid stench of rat droppings. He shivered, trying to shake the déjà vu that was suddenly gripping him. Jack didn't have time for this; he needed to focus on Crutchie, not the Refuge.

Silently, Jack checked all the rooms in the upstairs hallway, before carefully making his way downstairs to check those rooms. But, Crutchie was nowhere to be found. Jack was pretty sure he had found Crutchie's room—a dark blue room with a bed that was clearly slept in, semi-recently—but Crutchie wasn't in there. Jack contemplated just hiding in Crutchie's room and waiting for the younger newsie to come back for them to make their escape.

He sat on the bed for a couple of minutes, before deciding that this wouldn't work. Jack couldn't shake the strange gut feeling he had that something was very wrong and he really just wanted to find Crutchie now. As Jack sat there, wondering what to do, he recalled the conversation he had overheard between Dr. and Mrs. Maddox. Now that he thought about it, he was almost certain they were talking about Crutchie down in the laboratory Dr. Maddox had mentioned. With a resolute nod, Jack decided to go find this laboratory and, consequently, find Crutchie.

Jack made his way past the room where he had talked to Crutchie earlier that day, only glancing in briefly to ascertain that the younger newsie wasn't there. It was empty, but it brought Jack back to the words Crutchie had flung at him earlier. He was suddenly afraid that, once he found Crutchie, the boy would want to stay with the Maddoxes, that Jack was overthinking this entire thing.

The sudden sound of a door opening pulled Jack out of his thoughts and he immediately dove behind a large arm chair, hoping whoever had opened the door would not look behind the chair. He wasn't completely hidden, but he was, for the most part, out of sight. And if no one was looking for an intruder, hopefully, they wouldn't spot him. Jack peered out from behind the chair, watching Dr. Maddox walk past the room without a solitary glance in his direction. Safe, Jack grinned. As soon as the doctor was out of sight, Jack slipped from his hiding spot and made his way to the door that the doctor had just emerged from.

He quickly bounded down the stairs, finding himself in a room stacked with boxes in the corners. There was a small table on the side that had strange metal tools on it, tools that Jack didn't recognize, but still managed to send a shiver down his spine. The most horrific, though, was the table in the center of the room. Or, rather, the fact that Crutchie was strapped to the table, large leather bands restraining the young boy.

"Crutchie!" Jack called out, lowering his voice in case the doctor was returning. Slowly, Jack approached the boy, afraid to see why he was restrained. Jack quickly noticed Crutchie's pants were rolled up past his knee on his right leg, but that wasn't what had first caught his eye. It was the blood. Crutchie's leg had been cut open, the wound still gaping, staring at Jack. He had to fight against retching, the sight of Crutchie's blood toying with his gag reflex. "Crutchie…" Jack repeated, looking at his friend's face, suddenly afraid that the newsie was already dead and he had been too late.

He wasn't dead, which was an immense relief. Crutchie's eyes were squeezed shut, his breathing harsh in the silence. But, he hadn't answered to either of Jack's calls and Jack was worried that this was some sign of more pain that the boy was in. Gently, Jack put his hand on Crutchie's shoulder and the newsie's eyes whipped open, brown pools of liquid pain. His eyes quickly settled on Jack's features, staring for a second, before recognition kicked in. "Jack," he cried out, his voice hoarse but earnest. "You gotta leave. You gotta leave before the doc gets back. He'll kill ya!"

"Crutchie, what's 'appened? What did he do to you?" Jack asked, worriedly glancing back at the cut open leg, at the blood slowly trickling down the white, too-pale skin.

With a sarcastic smile, Crutchie explained. "He's tryin' to cure my polio. Ain't worked so well so far. Now he's trying to use direct contact? Don't really know."

"This is torture!" Jack exclaimed. He had been right. Crutchie had been hurt and the thought that his adoptive parents would do this to such an innocent boy left a sour taste in Jack's mouth and an unsettled pit in his stomach.

Crutchie tried to shrug, but hissed when it jarred his leg. "Don't matter. You gotta leave now. If he gets back and sees you, he'll give you polio and experiment on you, too!"

"I'se not leaving without you," Jack whispered back. He then hesitated, before asking, "Is that why you was so rude earlier today?"

"Couldn't let you get polio. Don't want any competition in the gimpy newsie department," Crutchie said, grinning. "Besides," Crutchie added, his face growing serious, "I—" But he was cut off by the sound of footsteps on the stairs. "Get gone, Jack! Now!"

Jack dove behind the piled boxes, barely managing to conceal himself before the doctor entered the basement. He didn't even dare to peek around one of the boxes, realizing that if Dr. Maddox caught sight of him, Crutchie would be punished. And, if what Crutchie had been saying was true, he'd somehow be given polio. Jack wasn't sure how that would actually happen, but he wasn't about to doubt the evil genius of a doctor who would experiment on innocent cripples.

Dr. Maddox smiled at Crutchie. "Okay, this doesn't seem to be working," he admitted, rubbing the back of his head with his hand. "I'm going to stitch you up, but you'll need to stay here for the night. Abigail doesn't want you getting blood on the sheets." Without waiting for a response, Dr. Maddox took a needle, dipped it in rubbing alcohol and then began the slow process of stitching Crutchie's leg back up.

Jack cringed as Crutchie's hoarse scream broke the silence, the boy begging, crying, pleading for the doctor to stop, just stop! It took all his will-power to remain crouched behind the boxes, muscles straining against common sense. Jack just wanted to grab Crutchie and take the newsie back to the lodging house, where he'd be safe.

After what seemed like an eternity, Dr. Maddox stepped away from Crutchie, whose screams had dwindled down to whimpers. He glanced at his adopted son, frowning. "I'll try to figure out a better way to fix your polio tomorrow. I think I'll call up Dr. Hendricks. He's another leading physician in the field. Maybe he'll have a better idea. Not that he'd get credit. I'm the one doing all the hard work. Get some rest, Christopher. I'll see you in the morning."

The door shut softly behind the doctor and Jack wasted no time in getting over to where Crutchie remained, gasping past the pain. "Crutchie…" Jack breathed anxiously, glancing at the now stitched up leg. "I'm getting you out of 'ere now."

"It's 'bout time," Crutchie muttered, shooting a grin at Jack.

Jack shook his head, trying to avoid smiling. Trust Crutchie to joke after having his leg stitched up without any form of pain killer. "Yeah, well, better late than never," Jack responded, loosening the leather restraints around Crutchie's wrists and ankles. "We've gotta get out quickly, though, in case the doc comes back."

Gently, Jack helped Crutchie roll his pants down and get off the bed, but was forced to catch the younger boy when he immediately pitched forward. "Jack!" Crutchie cried out, biting back a scream as pain shot up his leg like liquid fire. "Can't stand," he grunted. Jack gently lowered Crutchie to the ground, where he sat on the floor, leg still burning. This was much worse than the electroshock therapy he had been submitted to earlier. Much, much worse. Crutchie glanced fearfully in Jack's eyes. "If I can't stand, I can't get out of 'ere. You'se gonna 'ave to leave me."

"No, Crutchie. I did that once. I ain't makin' that mistake ever again." Jack would never admit it to any of the newsboys and especially not Crutchie, but some nights Crutchie's screams for help still haunted his dreams, turning happy adventures in Santa Fe to horror-stricken nightmares about the Refuge.

Crutchie nodded resolutely. "Okay, then. I can do it."

"Do what?" Jack asked, incredulity coloring his words. "You'se just gonna limp out of here with only your crutch and your hard-headed will?" When Crutchie nodded, Jack just shook his head. "Crutch, you can't even stand by yourself. There just ain't any way you're getting' out by yourself."

"What do you suggest, then?"

"I don't know," Jack growled, the frustration bubbling up inside him. He needed to get Crutchie out of here, but the leg was certainly posing a problem. "I'se gonna have to carry you," Jack decided.

Crutchie quickly shook his head. "I ain't ten any more. I'm bigger now." He paused for a second before continuing, "I'll manage to walk. I can do it."

Jack snorted. "You ain't that much bigger. Besides, what are brothers for if not to carry each other?"

"I hate to break it to you, Jack, but I don't think I could carry you," Crutchie informed Jack, trying to hide the grin that kept breaking through.

"Good thing you'se the one who needs carrying." Jack bent down, allowing Crutchie to grab around his neck and hefted the boy up onto his back. Crutchie bit back a cry as Jack's hand brushed against his bad, recently-stitched-up leg. "Sorry," Jack mumbled, standing and almost stumbling forward under Crutchie's weight.

"This is a bad idea," Crutchie began, doubtfully.

"Shut up, Crutch," Jack said, his tone light and playful. "I'm plenty strong." He bent to scoop up Crutchie's crutch and nearly lost his balance. "Got it!" he said triumphantly when he stood back up as straight as he could, the crutch in hand. Now that he had gathered everything they needed, Jack began to tackle the stairs, one slow step at a time. As he heaved himself upward, Jack grunted, "You need to lay off all da rich-people food you'se been 'aving."

Crutchie rolled his eyes, but wished he were lighter, hating the way Jack was struggling up the stairs. "Maybe you should just go get the other newsies to help you. I'll just stay 'ere."

"No, Crutchie. I'se going to get you out now. We'se going to get back to the lodging house and then you'll be safe and we won't have to think of that monstrous doctor ever again."

The silence stretched between the two friends as Jack finished mounting the stairs. He made his way as quickly as he could to the front door, exiting. Jack resolved to never return to this horrid place ever again. And neither would Crutchie, so long as Jack was around.

Crutchie finally broke the silence, interrupting Jack's thoughts. "I'm sorry 'bout everything I said back there."

"S'okay." Jack grunted, making his way down the street, towards their home. He refused to stop until Crutchie was back where he belonged.

"No, it's not okay. I was mean."

"You was protecting me," Jack pointed out.

Crutchie fell back into silence and Jack didn't bother to break it. Who knew a gimp leg would weigh so much? Jack decided that when they got back to the lodging house, Crutchie would no longer be allowed to have seconds or muffins from that small shop on the corner. He was going to stick to spinach and other disgustingly healthy things like that. His thoughts were interrupted by two words, barely whispered above the sound of Jack's heavy breathing. But, Jack had been paying attention, at least peripherally and the words made him grin, made everything worth it.

"Thank you."


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey, everyone. This is the last chapter, so I hope ya'll like it. To my reviewers, thank you for being so supportive. I grin like a freakin' idiot when I open my email on my phone and it says I have reviews. Like, seriously, my roommate hits me with pillows and tells me to stop smiling like a dork. Anyway, that's about all I have to say. Enjoy the chapter, my ostriches!**

* * *

Jack and Crutchie finally made it back to the lodging house over half an hour later. Crutchie had tried to convince Jack to stop and just take a break, but the older newsie refused to. When the two boys finally reached the lodging house, Jack stopped for a brief moment. "You okay?" Crutchie asked, craning his neck to make eye contact with Jack.

"Yeah, I'se good. Just don't want to wake de other boys, is all."

"I can be quiet," Crutchie whispered.

Jack grinned slightly. "I know that. The question is whether I can be quiet carting your sorry butt in dere." Jack gave a slight shrug that accidentally jostled Crutchie's leg, leading to the boy gasping in pain. "Sorry, sorry." He readjusted his hold on Crutchie to make sure he wouldn't accidentally hurt the boy again. "Well, let's see how quiet we can be."

The door to the lodging house gave a slight squeak as Jack pushed it open, but he continued onward, trusting that none of the boys had woken to the noise. Just as Jack stepped further into the room, a whispered voice called out, "Jack, is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me. Go back to sleep," he whispered back.

There was a moment of silence and Jack could just barely make out a figure watching them from across the room. "Is that Crutchie?" the voice called out, much louder than a whisper. Jack immediately recognized Race's voice.

"Yes, now shush, Race."

"Why's 'e 'ere?" There was a touch of bitterness in his voice. "Thought 'e didn't want to be with us newsies."

Before Jack could respond, Crutchie spoke up. "I was wrong, Race. You'se guys is my family. Don't want no more rich people in my life."

Race nodded slowly, before his eyes drifted to Crutchie's gimp leg. He stared at the wet spot on the pants before asking, "That blood?"

Jack tried to crane his neck to catch sight of the leg, but wasn't able to maneuver that easily with Crutchie on his back. "It started bleeding again? Crutchie, why didn't you tell me?"

"Why's 'e bleeding?" Race asked, worry flashing as he tore his eyes from the suspicious stain.

"You was busy. It doesn't 'urt—" Crutchie gasped, suddenly, belying his words. Between clenched teeth, he continued, "It don't 'urt much."

"Why's 'e bleeding?" Race asked more urgently.

Jack continued to ignore the other boy. "You shoulda told me, Crutch. I coulda stopped, coulda helped."

"Guys, tell me why 'e's bleeding," Race commanded.

Crutchie sighed wearily. "I just wanted to get home. Didn't want to be out dere anymore."

"Let's get you to your bed, then I can take a look at your leg."

"What's wrong with 'is leg?" Race tried again.

Jack finally turned to the boy. "Will you shush? We'se trying to be quiet and not wake da other boys."

Race crossed his arms smugly. "Tell me what 'appened to Crutchie or I'll wake everyone up."

The two boys stared at each other, challenging the other to make the next move. Finally, Crutchie spoke up. "The doc was trying to fix my polio. Didn't work so well."

"Why's it bleeding?" Race asked.

Crutchie shrugged, ignoring the pain that the movement caused. "He cut it open. Stitched it back up, but I suppose it just started bleeding again."

"Cut your leg open?" Race asked, staring disbelievingly at Crutchie. The younger boy looked away from Race, fixing his gaze at the back of Jack's neck and Race could see the truth in Crutchie's actions. "Damn…" he muttered, anger coloring the word. "I'll make sure that fancy doctor never—"

Jack cut Race off. "It don't matter anymore. Crutchie's here. 'E's safe now." With a slight smile, Jack added, "And if you'll get outta my way, I can get this dumb crip to bed."

"Hey! Who're ya calling dumb crip?" Crutchie sputtered, trying to keep the grin from spreading across his features. He had missed the other boys, had missed their friendly banter. Crutchie wondered why he had ever decided to leave them. This was his family and he wasn't going to ever make that mistake again.

"You, ya idiot," Jack responded playfully. He made his way past the sleeping boys towards the bedroom he shared with Crutchie. There was no way he was going to let Crutchie sleep on the roof, not when his leg was still hurt the way it was. Jack, as gently as he could, deposited Crutchie on the bed, before pulling the boy's pant leg up to observe the wound. Blood seeped around the black stitches, dark against Crutchie's pale skin. Race suddenly appeared, hands full of bandages. "Thanks," Jack muttered, taking the gauze that Race wordlessly offered him. Trying to ignore the way that Crutchie bit back a moan, Jack wrapped the leg in the white gauze, being extra careful of the recently stitched up wound. Jack stepped back to admire his handiwork when he finished. "There. Good as new."

Race nodded, patting Crutchie on his shoulder. "Get better, kid."

"Thanks," Crutchie murmured quietly.

"And no more run-ins with evil docs," Race added, shooting a grin at Crutchie.

"Never again," Crutchie agreed rather quickly.

After Race had left the room and Jack had climbed into his own bed, Crutchie whispered, "I'm sorry, Jack."

"What for?"

"Leaving. Shouldn't 'ave done that."

Jack smiled slightly, resettling back into his pillow. "It's okay, Crutch. You're safe now. I won't let dem Maddoxes anywhere near you."

"Thank you. For everything," Crutchie whispered.

"Yeah, just get some rest," Jack suggested, closing his eyes. Everything was going to be okay.

* * *

Everything was not going to be okay. Jack had been awoken by Davey shaking him to alertness. "Jack. Jack! Ya gotta get out here."

"What's going on?" Jack asked blearily, looking up at Davey in confusion.

Davey shot a glance at Crutchie, who had woken up to the commotion. "Da Maddoxes are here. They want Crutchie."

"What?" Crutchie breathed hoarsely. He was supposed to be safe now that he had made it back to the lodging house. They weren't supposed to follow him here, they weren't supposed to ever make an unwanted appearance in his life. "Jack," he whispered urgently, not knowing exactly how to express his fears, but if the look on Jack's face was any indication, the older boy knew exactly what Crutchie was feeling.

"I won't let 'em get you."

"How?" Davey asked. "They're at the front door, demanding to be let in."

"Well, we won't let 'em in," Jack said, standing up. Crutchie made to get up, but hissed as the stitches stretched at the movement. "You stay here," Jack told the younger boy. "No moving."

"But—" Crutchie began.

Jack shot him a confident smile. "We're just gonna tell the Maddoxes to leave and you're going to lay dere and get better. End of story."

Davey led Jack out of the room, only pausing to smile encouragingly at Crutchie. "It'll be okay," he reassured the younger boy. The two newsies made their way past all the other boys to the front door. Jack nodded at everyone, before pulling open the front door and coming face to face with a livid Dr. Maddox.

"Where is my son?" Dr. Maddox growled.

Jack grinned cockily. "You lost your own boy? That's mighty embarrassing, sir."

"I know you have him and I want him back."

"Crutchie?" Jack asked. "We don't know where he is. I 'aven't seen him since you kicked me out yesterday. Maybe," Jack suggested, "Crutchie didn't want to live with you'se guys no more and just up and left."

Mrs. Maddox stepped forward, waving a sheet of paper in Jack's face. "He's our son! This paper proves that we legally own Christopher and you can't just steal him."

"Crutchie ain't some object to be owned," Jack growled. "He's a kid."

"Well, he's our kid," Mrs. Maddox said, pointing to the adoption papers. "Christopher signed right here. That makes it legal. We will get the police to arrest the lot of you if you don't give him back." She paused for a second. "It doesn't have to be like that, though. I know you're Christopher's friends and I wouldn't want any of you to be arrested or roughed up by those officers, so if you just return Christopher to us, everything will be okay."

"That's tempting, it is," Jack began. "But we'se gonna have to say no." With that, Jack slammed the door shut in the Maddoxes faces, locking the door.

"What's going on?" Specs asked, speaking up for the group of boys.

"We ain't giving Crutchie back."

Romeo called out. "I thought Crutchie wanted to live with 'em rich people. What's he doing back here?"

"Yeah," a couple of the boys grumbled in agreeance.

Race quickly spoke up. "That doc experimented on Crutchie. His leg was tore open and all dat." He nodded towards Jack. "We ain't letting Crutchie outta our sight."

"Is he okay?" young Les asked.

"He'll be fine. We just gotta keep the Maddoxes away," Jack said.

"Yeah? How're we gonna do that?" Mush asked. "Askin' ain't gonna help much."

For once, Jack was at a loss for words. The boys glanced around. There had to be something they could do to keep the evil doctor and his wife at bay. Race finally spoke up, "What about a strike?" Everyone gave him strange looks, prompting him to continue, "Of sorts…"

"How do you mean?" Romeo asked.

"Like, block the doors and windows and not let them in?" Race suggested.

"That's not a strike. That's a barricade," Davey pointed out.

Race shrugged. "It don't matter what it's called, so long as it works."

"It's the only idea we have," Jack announced, grabbing a chair and shoving it towards the door, jamming the back of the chair under the door handle to prevent the door from opening. "I vote we go for it." The other boys quickly followed Jack's actions, yanking furniture from other rooms and piling it against the door and the lower level windows.

The commotion of chairs banging against walls and indignant yelps as boys were trapped between beds and walls brought Crutchie out of his room. "What's going on?" he asked. He was leaning heavily on his crutch and knew that Jack would probably get mad at him for dragging himself out of bed, but Crutchie needed to see what was going on. The Maddoxes were here because of him, so everything that was going on, it was his fault.

"It's a barricade!" Les shouted excitedly from his perch on the top of the tower of chairs.

Davey quickly waved his brother down, before turning to Crutchie. "Should you be out of bed?" he asked, his dark eyes settling on Crutchie's injured leg.

"I'se fine," Crutchie reassured the older boy. "Just wanna know what's going on."

"We'se keeping the Maddoxes out," Specs explained, carting the last chair over to the door.

Romeo shouted from his perch near the window, "Da officers are comin'!"

Crutchie stepped forward, but Jack suddenly materialized beside him. "What're you doing, Crutch?"

"I wanted ta—"

Jack cut him off, gently guiding him back towards their bedroom. "I've got this handled. I don't want ya hurting your leg anymore."

Crutchie frowned. "Jack, I can—"

He was cut off by the sound of a window shattering. "They'se coming!" Romeo shouted, backing away from the window. The room quickly dissolved into chaos. Specs swung a pot of toilet water at the officer crawling through the window, which only made the man angrier, not stopping him as Specs had hoped. Race grabbed a frying pan and took a defensive stance beside Specs, waiting for the officer to actually breach the window. Across the room, another window was shattered and Mush stumbled backwards when an officer punched him in the jaw. The barricade wasn't working, Jack quickly realized and he grabbed Davey's arm in order to pull the other boy into the fray.

Davey pulled his arm out of Jack's grasp, a confused, distant look on his face. "This isn't right," he muttered.

"Well, yeah," Jack agreed. "They'se trying to get Crutchie."

"No. This isn't going to work…" Davey trailed off. He suddenly looked up, catching Jack's eyes. "I'll be right back," he informed the older boy, before vaulting out of one of the broken windows and dashing past the bewildered officers.

Jack watched Davey disappear around the bend, completely leaving them to try and defend against the angry officers. "I can't believe he'd just leave like dat," Jack muttered, turning back to Crutchie. "We ain't losing that badly."

The younger boy swallowed thickly, before suggesting, "Maybe… Maybe I should just give myself up, y'know? Stop all of this."

"Crutchie, he'll tear ya open," Jack admonished quickly. "No, there's gotta be another way."

"They'se railing on us pretty hard," Crutchie pointed out quietly. "I don't want da others to get hurt."

"And we don't want you to get hurt."

"I don't know," Crutchie began hesitantly, but was interrupted when Specs stumbled backwards, his glasses askew. Specs' nose was gushing blood and the boy shook his head for a moment, before pulling himself back into the fight. Crutchie quickly shot a glance to Jack. "We'se gotta stop this."

"And how do you suggest we do that? Other than sacrificing yourself, ya chowderhead."

Crutchie shrugged. "We gotta do something."

"Are ya guys gonna help or just chat?" Race shouted, swinging his frying pan at an officer who had made it inside the lodging house. The metal connected with the man's head with a resounding ring. Race cheered as the officer collapsed to the floor, totally unconscious.

"Stay here," Jack told Crutchie, before swinging into the fight and kicking an officer in the stomach.

Crutchie worked his way around all the fighting, glancing out one of the windows. He craned his neck, trying to see where the Maddoxes had ended up. From where the window was positioned, there was no way to see the front porch. Crutchie had just given up when Mrs. Maddox's face appeared right in front of the window, staring in at him. He startled and accidentally put all of his weight on his bad weight, nearly collapsing as the pain consumed his right side. "Christopher," Mrs. Maddox said, "Come with me and this will all end."

"And what?" Crutchie asked. "You'll cut me open again?"

"It's for the good of the community. The needs of the great outweigh the needs of the few," Mrs. Maddox hissed.

Les' shout drew Crutchie's attention from the window. The younger boy scampered away from an officer, but the officer was closing in. Mush immediately came to Les' rescue, hitting the officer with a cane that Crutchie didn't realize they even had.

"Your friends can't hold these men off forever," Mrs. Maddox pointed out, drawing Crutchie's attention back to her.

"But—" Crutchie began.

Mrs. Maddox continued, ignoring the interruption. "Besides, you should really learn to obey your parents. If we say that you must come with us, then that is what you're supposed to do."

Something inside of Crutchie snapped at those words and he slammed his crutch against the wall beside the window, causing the older woman to jump backwards in shock. "You'se not my mother!" he shouted.

"This says otherwise!" Mrs. Maddox screamed back, waving the adoption certificate around. "You signed it; you agreed to this!"

"Excuse me, ma'am." The words startled both Crutchie and Mrs. Maddox who whipped around to face the new arrival. It was a tall man with a bristling black moustache and dark hair that had just begun to recede. Behind him, Crutchie noticed, Davey stood with a slight grin on his face.

"What?" she asked caustically.

"May I see that certificate?" he queried, his voice very calm in comparison to Mrs. Maddox's indignant shrieks.

She stared at him for a moment, before replying, "No! It's mine. It means that I own that boy!" Mrs. Maddox swung her finger to point at Crutchie.

"That's the thing," the man began. "I don't think it does."

"Who are you to say that?"

The man unconsciously straightened his back, before announcing himself. "I am Robert Davis, graduate of Cornell Law School."

"That give you no right—" Mrs. Maddox began.

"I believe it does. If you are illegally trying to take this child," here he gestured at Crutchie, before continuing, "then I would have to have these officers arrest you and your husband on charges of kidnapping. However, if you cooperate and we discover that your adoption certificate is a fake, I will be able to file all this under a tragic misunderstanding. Everyone can go their own way and there will be no more trouble." With a slight smile, Robert Davis continued, "I suggest you take the latter option."

Mrs. Maddox glanced at Crutchie, before sighing and handing over the paper. "We did love him, you should know. I just wanted to give him a better life."

"I'm sure," Robert Davis agreed, looking over the certificate. "Yes, I'm sorry to say that this is a fake. You cannot possibly take this boy away." He looked Mrs. Maddox in the eyes. "Call the police off and I will let you and your husband leave, so long as you promise to never come back."

"Fine…" Mrs. Maddox grumbled, making her way to where her husband was rallying the officers against the boys. Shortly after, the officers began to leave, Dr. Maddox shooting Robert Davis an angry look, before taking his wife away from the Lodging House.

Robert Davis turned to Crutchie. "They shouldn't be back to bother you ever again."

"Thank you," Crutchie breathed. For a while, he had been worried that the only way to protect his newsie brothers was to give himself up and Crutchie had really not wanted to do that.

Before the lawyer could step away, a small voice shouted, "Uncle Mike!" Les barreled out the front door, colliding with the lawyer and hugging the man's legs. "What're you doing here?" he asked.

"Mike?" Crutchie questioned. "I thought you said your name was—"

"Robert Davis?" the lawyer grinned. "No, it's Michael Jacobs. I'm Davey and Les' uncle. Davey came and got me in order to get you out of this mess."

"So… You're not a lawyer?" Crutchie asked.

Mike Jacobs laughed. "Heaven's no. I don't even know if that certificate really was fake. I'm an actor. Not a big one, mind you, but I can play an imposing lawyer if need be."

Before Crutchie could ask anything else, Jack made his way to his friend. He grasped Crutchie's shoulder, before asking, "You okay, kid?" He looked out the window, noticing how Les was still clinging to a man in front of the Lodging House. "What's going on?" Jack asked, glancing at Davey who was grinning wildly. "What happened?"

Crutchie grinned. "Don't worry 'bout it. The Maddoxes won't be coming back again."

"You went to get help?" Jack asked Davey.

"Well, yeah, the barricade wasn't working. Did you really think I was just running?"

Jack shrugged. "Wasn't entirely sure what you was doing."

"Jack, we're all brothers. I wasn't gonna ditch you just because the odds weren't in our favor." Davey turned to his uncle. "Thanks, Uncle Mike, though. We couldn't have gotten them to leave without you."

"Well, if you ever need my help again, you know who to call," Davey's uncle said, before hugging his nephews and walking away.

Crutchie smiled softly. "That was quite the adventure, eh, Jack?"

Jack snorted slightly. "Yeah, an adventure that needs cleanin' up after." He gestured at the chairs strewn across the floor and the broken windows. "You'se all best be getting started."

"Hey, watch it," Crutchie warned, unsuccessfully trying to keep from grinning. "You'se not my mother."

* * *

 **Just a short heads up, I will be publishing the first chapter of my next Newsies fic by the 11th at the latest. Hopefully sooner, but UGH finals. Anyway, thanks again for sticking with me through this fic!**


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